Til There Was You
by PortableSwamp
Summary: Quil Ateara imprinted wih Claire Young when she was only two. Now she's grown up. QuilxClaire, Please review!
1. Introduction

**Introduction **

"C'mon, Sam, are we gonna go or not? I'm starving," said Quil.

"You realize that she's not just your personal chef, right?" Sam replied.

"Since when?"

Sam ignored this. "Her nieces are gonna be visiting form the Makah Reservation, so watch the language."

"Alright, alright," Quil complied as he stepped into the passenger side of Sam's truck. They had been on patrol, just routine stuff, nothing major. Now it was Jacob and Embry's shift, and the two boys were going to Emily's house.

Sam drove quickly, eager to arrive and see his fiancée.

"Emily," he called, strolling through the doorway.

"In here," she replied from the other room. Sam and Quil walked forward to the living room, covering the kitchen in three long strides. Emily was playing with building blocks on the floor with her two nieces.

"Hey, Emily," Quil greeted her.

"Hi, Quil. These are my nieces, Claire and Anna." The two-year-old Claire looked up at the sound of her name, and then over to Quil, who didn't hear what she said next, simply because the world stopped turning the instant his eyes saw Claire's. The Earth shattered, and he fell into nothingness; the only thing he could see was her face, she was the only thing that was real. He heard voices talking in the background, but where were they coming from? But more importantly, who cares? Their words were unintelligible, just an incoherent drone, worthy of no attention. Nothing was worthy of any attention, except for Claire.

Suddenly, she got up and tottered over to Emily.

"Mm," she grunted, tugging on Emily's sleeve.

"What is it? What's wrong?" inquired Quil urgently. "What can I do?"

Two pairs of questioning eyes turned toward him.

"What!" he demanded. "What's wrong?"

"I think she's just hungry…" said Emily in a strange tone. "I'll go get her a banana."

"No, let me do it, I'm faster," Quil said over his shoulder, already sprinting out of the room, Ignoring the bewildered faces behind him. Quil returned no more than twenty seconds later, carrying a purple plastic bowl full of banana, already peeled and sliced. He gently handed it to Claire, who smiled up at him.

He melted.

For the better part of two hours, Quil played everything from Barbie to Hide-and-Go-Seek with Claire Finally Sam announced that it was time for them to leave. Quil gave Claire a kiss on the cheek, said goodbye to Emily, and strode out the door to the truck.

"What was that?" Sam demanded as he shoved the key into the ignition.

"What are you talking about?"

"Back at Emily's. You didn't take your eyes off Claire for two seconds." The truck lurched forward, moving towards the cliffs.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No…just kind of…strange, they way you looked at her, like you would jump in front of a train for her or something… it almost reminded me of… never mind," he amended quickly.

A few moments had passed, when Sam suddenly slammed on the brakes.

"What—"

"What is the most important thing in the world to you?" Sam demanded urgently.

"Claire." The look on Sam's face distracting him, Quil answered without thought, but then instantly looked as if he said a cuss word in front of his grandma.

Sam's expression changed from urgency to . "Quil," he said, "Quil, I think you imprinted with Claire."

"But that's—" Quil's protest was instantly quelled by the feeling of recognized truth bubbling up inside him. "You're right," he finally whispered.

"Let's go," said Sam abruptly, stopping in front of the cliffs. I'm calling a meeting. We have to tell the others."

A few minutes later, eight large, half-naked boys emerged from the woods by the truck.

"What's up?" inquired Embry.

"Did you find a trail?" asked Jacob.

"No, it's something much… closer to home," Sam replied. The other boys gave him questioning looks, so he elaborated. "Quil imprinted. I guess it's a lot more common than the stories suggest."

"What?! With who?!" Jacob and Embry said loudly at the same time.

Sam took a deep breath and replied, "Emily's niece, Claire." Jacob and Embry, who had been to Emily's house the previous day, were astounded.

"But… that's… she… too… little!" Jacob spluttered.

"Apparently not," Sam replied gravely.

Quil, who had been silent through all this, looked up when Jared called his name.

"Quil?" he paused. "How did it happen?"

"I don't really know… I just looked at her and then nothing else mattered. It was like I had to do and be anything she wanted or needed, but it wasn't like someone was making me; I wanted to, I _needed_ to."

"That sounds about right," Jared supplied after a minute of silence.

"Yeah, I thought so, too," Jacob commented.

"So what am I going to do?" Quil asked.

Sam answered him. "You'll just have to be patient for a few years. It's your only choice."


	2. Chapter One: Cliff Diving

**AN:** Thank you so much for the reviews from lovinmyfluff, carconee, missbrunettgirl, and Helena-Mara!

Disclaimer: The term "Fanfiction" is a compound word derived from the two words "Fan" and "Fiction". This implies that is was written by Fans, and is a work of fiction. Really, people, this isn't that complicated.

**Chapter 1**

"Claire. Wake up."

"Mmrph."

"Come on, wake up, it's almost eleven!" Aunt Emily chided her.

"I don't care. I want to sleep."

"Too bad."

Claire reluctantly threw the comforter off herself, shooting her Aunt Emily a basilisk glare, who looked satisfied. Once the bathroom door was shut behind her, she strode to the shower stall, turning the water on as hot as it would go. She undressed slowly, letting the water heater do its job. She stepped into the stall, letting the steaming water wash all the sleepiness out of her system. 

As Claire became more awake, she thought about how much her life had changed. Just over four years ago, her parents Miata had been T-boned by a Ford Explorer. They were killed on impact. That was when Claire had come to La Push to live with her Aunt Emily and Sam.

She smiled at his name, remembering when she was six, and couldn't stop laughing when she tried to call him Uncle Sam, imagining him in a red, white, and blue suit and top hat, inviting her to join the army.

She washed herself and her hair, and then shut the water off, wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out, shivering from the sudden cold. Claire walked to her room and pulled on a worn pair of jeans and a black fitted tee, still reminiscing about those past few years. A constant figure was Quil, who had driven up to the Makah Reservation once a month before her parents died. And who had been at her house almost daily since she moved to La Push. She had had the hugest crush on him since she was thirteen, but she never told anyone that. Besides, he was too old, anyways. He always avoided direct answers when it came to his age. "Around twenty-five," he'd say. Actually, he'd been around twenty-five for as long as she could remember.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Claire trotted to the front door and peered out the peephole. A tall, dark figure with russet skin and black hair leaned against the front porch railing. 

"Speak of the devil…" she murmured as she opened the door. "Hey, Quil." 

"Hey, Claire. You wanna go down to the beach? I've got the day off."

"Sure! I'll go get my bathing suit." She jogged back to her room, undressing, then throwing on her turquoise and brown bikini, with cut-off jean shorts and a tee shirt over it at lightning speed. Then she jogged back into the kitchen, picked up a pad of light blue Post-It notes, and wrote a short message:

_Aunt Emily, _

_Went to the beach with Quil. Be back later._

_Claire_

She tore the note off and stuck it to the kitchen table, then walked back outside where Quil was still leaning, just like before she left. Claire feared for the life of the railing; after all, Quil was, well, huge.

"Let's go," he said, the biggest grin on his face. He always smiled like that when he was with Claire. No one else could ever get it out of him. Claire was secretly proud of this, the fact that she had some kind of hold on him that no one else did.

"Alright," she relied, smiling back at him. She walked around him and down the steps onto the gravel driveway and to his small, navy blue car. She opened the passenger door and glance in the direction of the porch as she was about to step in, but stopped short when she noticed Quil was still standing there, staring after her.

"You coming?"

"Yeah." Quil shook his had quickly to and fro as if he was clearing it, then jogged to the driver's side. He plopped into his seat as Claire was fastening her seat belt. He turned the key in the in the ignition and shut the door simultaneously, then took off down the narrow lane. 

Once they arrived at the beach, Quil eagerly hopped out of the car and ran over to the passenger side to open Claire's door before she could undo her seat belt.

"Thanks," she said.

"Anytime."

The pair walked down the beach, Quil asking about Claire's summer so far and Claire replying that it was pretty dull. After a while, Quil noticed her staring at the cliffs.

"Have you ever jumped off them before?" he asked Claire.

"What!" she said, astounded.

"Cliff diving. I used to do it all the time."

"Wow. Was it fun?" 

"Yeah, it's the best. It's just pure adrenaline, a huge rush from the freefall. It's awesome."

"Will you take me?" 

"Sure, if you want to," he said, a little surprised. "When?"

"How about right now?"

He raised one inky black eyebrow.

"Pretty please? With sugar on top? And a cherry?" She begged, batting her eyelashes.

Quil was silent for a moment, looking at the ground, as if the answer would present itself there. "You know Sam's going to kill me if he finds out about this," he said, looking up, a mischievous smile crossing his face. 

"Yay! Let's go!" Claire squealed and ran back to the car with Quil right behind her.

A few minutes later, they pulled out of the trail onto a lower outcropping about halfway down the cliff. Claire had wanted to go from the top, but on that subject, no amount of eyelash batting or lower lip pouting would Quil be swayed by. 

Claire kicked off her flip flops as Quil yet again opened her door. Once she had stood up, she quickly stripped off her tee shirt and shorts and put them back on her seat. She caught Quil staring at her again. It wasn't in a creepy, weird way, however, it was a wistful look, almost sad. It faded instantly, though, when he looked up at her face, the mischievous grin coming back into place. That was when she noticed Quil had taken his shirt off. Her eyes raked over his immense figure, taking in the smooth russet skin, the powerful muscles, everything from his glossy black hair to his oversized feet. She glanced up at his face, and realized he was wearing an amused expression, both eyebrows set in arches above his coal black irises. She blushed.

"This way," Quil said, leading the way to the edge of the cliff. 

"Ok." Claire took in a deep breath, stepped back a few paces, and was about to spring into a running start when Quil caught her around the waist. 

"Not so fast."

"Why not?" 

"Because you can't jump straight off."

"Any why not?" 

"Because if you jumped here instead of _here_," he said, turning her 45 degrees to the right, "you would land on a sandbar, with water about four feet deep."

"Oh." 

"And if you were to jump off _there_," he continued, "you would impale yourself on one of several large, sharp, pointed rocks hiding just below the surface."

"Oh," Claire repeated. "Ok. Thanks."

"Anytime."

Claire stepped back a few feet again, this time much more wary. She ran forward, stooping just short of the edge and looked down nervously. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Quil asked her carefully.

"Yeah, of course I am," Claire tried to reassure him, but the expression on her face ruined the effect.

"Maybe I should go first," Quil suggested.

"Yeah, you probably should." Claire felt relieved; she didn't want to have been the one to suggest it.

She stepped to the side to allow Quil room. He sprinted forward and leapt gracefully into space, cart wheeling through the air and finally slicing through the black waves in perfect dive formation. A few ripples emanated from where he landed. Quil didn't come back up. Claire stared at the obsidian waves for what seemed like a very long time; the seconds felt like hours. Frenzied what-ifs ran through her head, and she was starting to get really worried. She pulled nervously at the strings that secured her top, just to give her hands something to do. 

Just then, a head of inky hair appeared right above the water's surface. Claire's face broke into a relieved smile as she saw Quil's ear-to-ear grin. He shook his head like a dog before calling to her. 

"Come on in, the water's fine!" 

Claire got into place again, then ran forward and flung herself off the cliff. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she raced toward the water. And she let out an exhilarated scream right before she hit the waves. She shot down about 15 feet, finally stopping and floating back up as her ears started to hurt because of the intense pressure. She kicked as hard as she could, swimming toward the light of the surface with all her might.

Her head broke through the last of the waves and she took a deep breath of the salty air. Quil treaded water about ten feet away form her. He looked at her once and then quickly averted his eyes embarrassedly, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of brown,

"What?" Claire demanded.

"Um, Claire…" Quil trailed off, looking pointedly to the left.

Claire whipped her head around and saw something bobbing on the surface a few meters away. 

A turquoise and brown thing.

Claire's eyes grew wide as they looked down for the first time and saw her bare chest. She crossed her arms over it and asked timidly, "Could you get that for me?" 

"Yeah, sure." Quil seemed as uncomfortable as Claire was. He swiftly swam and retrieved the top, and hen handed it to her and turned his back to give her some privacy.

Claire clumsily tied the knot at the nape of her neck, but by the time she got finished, her fingers were so numb she could barely move them, let alone tie the other knot.

"Um, Quil?"

"Uh-huh?" "D'you think you could tie this for me? I would, but I can't really feel my fingers…"

"Oh, uh, sure," he said and paddled behind her. His fingers, large as they may be, were much more dexterous than Claire's, and he had it tied in no time. Once, his fingertips grazed her back and his electric touch made her shiver. Are you cold?" he asked, misinterpreting it.

"Just a little bit," Claire answered him.

"I think I ought to take you home."

"I think so, too." The cold, plus the jumping, swimming, and embarrassment had all combined to make her suddenly so tired she could barely move. She did, however, manage to swim to the shore and walk about ½ of a mile, but that was only halfway to the car. Once she started stumbling every other step, Quil silently picked her up bridal-style in his too-warm arms and carried her the rest of the way.

Once he reached the car, he somehow opened the passenger door and gently set the shivering Claire on the seat. He then opened up the trunk, rummaged through it for a minute, and emerged with an old, green flannel sleeping bag. He unzipped it and laid it over Claire, tucking her in like she was five.

"Thanks." Claire smiled up at him sleepily.

"No problem." He leaned in, kissed her forehead, and sighed. "Six more days," he said quietly, more to himself than Claire.

"What happens in six days?"

"In six days, it will be June twenty-fifth, your eighteenth birthday, and I will be able to tell you everything."

"Tell me what?"

"Everything. My past, my future, and hopefully yours, too."

"Why don't you tell me now?"

"Because Sam said I have to wait until you're eighteen."

"Tell me anyways."

"I can't. I physically cannot tell you."

"Why not?"

"It's all part of the secret. You'll find out in six days." He walked around to the driver's side. "And now, I think you should go to sleep."

Claire smiled. "No problem."

Quil turned the radio on softly to an oldies station, where a song by the Steve Miller Band was playing. Claire was already halfway asleep, but she did hear some of the words.

_Nobody loves you_

_Like the way I do._

Once they had arrived at Sam and Emily's house, Quil walked around to the passenger side and picked the still- sleeping Claire up like before, sleeping bag and all, grabbed her shorts and shirt off the floorboard, and carried her into her room, then set her softly as he could onto her bed. He kissed her forehead lightly again and silently slipped out of the room. 

**AN:** Love it? Hate it? Please review, or message, or whatever, just let me know your thoughts so I can make it better.

That was the longest chapter I have ever written, with 2220 words and 6 pages in all. Whew! I will try to have the next one up before next Monday, and it would make me update all that much faster if a had some reviews to come home to on Friday night (cough, cough). Again, review, review, review!

-Emily


	3. Chapter Two: Secret

A/N: Chapter Two

A/N: Chapter Two! Woohoo! Thanks to all of my reviewers, Helena-Mara, lovin'myfluff, Morikumo, punkproud, rebecca2200, carconee, WhishIWasBella781, FriendsNotFood, and missbrunettgirl. I feel so loved. :

Disclaimer: Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, and I _still_ don't own Twilight!

Chapter 2

The next five days seemed to go by at a snail's pace. Claire more or less stared at the ceiling all day, and tried not to look at the clock too much. When she did, though, she found herself wondering if it was broken. _Surely it's been more than thirty minutes,_ she thought_. An hour, two hours._

Quil was gone for the weekend, and Claire had nothing to do and no one to do it with. Books and TV couldn't capture her interest, and her best friend Samantha was spending summer vacation with her family in Hawaii.

_Hmm… maybe Jake will take me riding,_ she thought. Claire got up, walked into the kitchen, and was just about to pick up the phone when it rang, startling her. She stared at it for a minute, as if comprehending its purpose, then came to her senses and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Claire, it's Jake."

"Oh, hey! I was just about to call you."

"How come?"

"Do you want to go riding today?"

"Yeah, I'll get the bikes and come over now."

"Wait— why did you call?"

"Well, I was going to ask Sam if he could go for a run, but this is way better. I'll be over in a couple minutes." The line clicked off.

"Bye," Claire said to the empty receiver. She walked to her room and grabbed her scratched blue and black helmet out of her closet. The first time Jake had taught her how to ride, Quil had nearly strangled Jacob after she came home and h saw her severely windswept hair.

—_Flashback_—

"_You—didn't—get—her—a—_helmet _he had hissed through clenched teeth. "What were you _thinking

"_I didn't—"_

"_Of _course_ you didn't! Because if you _had_ thought, for just one iota of a second, you would have _realized_ that the _first thing _she needed was a _helmet _Get your _head_ out of your _ass, _Jacob! She could have been _injured, _she could have _died_…"Quil turned away from Jacob and walked over to Claire, a strange expression on his face: it was a mixture of terror, and something else; it looked almost like pain._

"_You could have _died_," he choked out, right before lifting Claire off her feet in one of his rib-breaking hugs._

_The look that had appeared on Quil's face a moment ago made Claire refrain from dramatically gasping for air and saying in a raspy voice, "Quil! Can't—breathe!" She just hung there in his embrace, secretly enjoying every second. It was much too soon when he set her gingerly back down on her feet._

_Jacob looked shocked. He grabbed Quil by the arm and led him, none too gently, into Sam and Emily's room. Claire stealthily opened the cabinet, took a glass, and put it against the door. _

"_You_ promised_ Sam—"_

"_I know—" _

"_Nothing, Quil, _nothing,_ until she's eighteen."_

"_I know, ok? I'm sorry… it's just… I thought about what it would be like if I lost her, and… I just can't do that. Sorry."_

"_Ok, just _please_ don't do it again, especially not in front of me, because you know that would get me in trouble, too."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Yeah," Jacob finished. There was an awkward pause. "Well, um, I guess we should go."_

_There was the creaking sound of a wooden chest of drawers being relieved of a lot of stress, and then Claire ran back into the kitchen._

The sound of a knock on the door woke Claire up from her reminiscences.

"Hello?" Jacob called as he walked through the doorway.

"Coming!" Claire answered as she raced into the kitchen.

"Hey. Are you ready?"

"Yep."

"Let's go then," he said and then stepped out onto the porch, heading towards the red and black motorcycles in the back of his truck. Claire wondered idly why he had bought two in the first place as she walked over to where Jacob was easily lifting them out of the back of his truck like they were toys.

Jacob kick started the red bike for Claire; she had never tried hundreds of timed but could never do it forcefully enough. The engine roared to life, and Jacob carefully set it on its kickstand, and then jogged back to the black one, doing the same. Claire put on her helmet and buckled the strap under her chin. Then she walked over go the red bike, which was the one she always rode, for some reason.

"You remember how to do everything?" Jacob asked her.

"Yeah."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" Jacob swung his right leg over the bike, then plopped down on the seat, kicked up the kickstand, then pulled the clutch and clicked the gearshift down into first gear with his left foot. Claire did the same, but more slowly and clumsily.

That was on thing she had never understood: how those Quileute boys could be so dang _graceful_. For their size, it was completely unnatural.

Claire cleared her mind of everything about Quileute boys, of everything about everything, except for her, the bike, the road, and the speed.

At 11:53PM on June twenty-fourth, Claire was still sitting awake in bed, wondering what—if anything—would happen in seven minutes.

Sam said that Quil had returned the day before, but Claire hadn't seen him. She had the strangest feeling that he was avoiding her since that day at the beach, but that was stupid. Why would Quil be avoiding her?

11:56, the red display said. _I wonder what the big secret ism_ Claire thought. _Maybe they're all criminals. Jewel thieves, possibly. _ Several more thoughts like that ran through her head, each making less sense than the last.

She saw the number go from 11:58 to 11: 59. Childishly, she started to count the seconds. _One, two, three… fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, _and that was it. She was eighteen; she was an official, legal adult. She half expected to feel some sort of perceptible change, but nothing came. She tried to stop the counting in her head, but it was like a leaky faucet that wouldn't shut off. _Sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight…_

Once she had reached eighty-two, there was a loud knock on the front door. Claire started to throw the covers off her and got up, but then she heard the door to Sam and Emily's room squeak open, so she stayed put. A few seconds later, she heard the sound of the deadbolt being unlocked and the front door opening.

"Hey, Sam," an unmistakable voice said.

"Quil?" What are you doing here?"

"I want to see Claire."

There was a brief pause, in which Claire could only guess that Sam was looking at the clock over the counter. "All right, come in, Do you want to talk to her separately or with me and Emily?"

"Together, then alone, I think."

"Ok. I'll get Emily and Claire."

"Ok."

Sam walked back to his room. "Em? He murmured softly. "Em, Quil is here and he wants to talk to Claire with us."

"Ok, I'll be there in a minute," she replied sleepily.

Sam walked into Claire's room. "Hey, Claire. Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"We—your Aunt Emily, Quil, and I—want to talk to you about something, in the living room."

"Ok," Claire said, trying to be nonchalant, although her heart was pounding inside her chest. She got up and followed Sam into the living room, with Aunt Emily trailing behind her. Quil caught sight of her and stared for a moment, but then he spoke.

"Hi, Claire. Happy Birthday."

"Thanks. So what's the big secret?" Sam and Emily looked mildly surprised, but Quil remained as calm as ever. Claire knew him well enough, however, that she could tell something was bothering him. Something big.

"Well, before I tell you, I just want you to know that nothing has changed. It's been this way for a long time, before you were even born. Sam and I are still exactly the same as before."

"Ok…" Claire said, she couldn't see where he was going with this, but she went along.

"Ok, well, um, do you remember all those old Quileute legends I told you when you were younger? About Taha Aki and the wolves and everything?"

"Yeah, of course I do. You all have told them to me about a million times."

"Good. Um… well… I thought I was going to be able to figure out a way to work up to this, but nothing's coming. You got anything?" He looked up hopefully at Sam, who shook his head.

"Stop worrying and spit it out," Claire said to him, suddenly becoming impatient.

"Ok, well, um, what would you say if I said they were all true?"

"Then…I would probably laugh at you."

"They're true."

There was a momentary silence.

"OK, where's the punch line?"

"There is no punch line, Claire. I'm serious. They're true. They're all true. You know how Sam, Jake, Embry, Seth, Brady, Collin, Jared, Paul, Leah, and I are always sort of… in tune with one another?"

"Yeah, I've noticed that before."

"Well, we're not just a group of friends, Claire. We're a pack."

"A pack?"

"Yes, a pack. A pack of werewolves."

"You're lying."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because it's impossible! Werewolves, vampires, it's all impossible! It's just old legends! None of it is really true!"

Aunt Emily, who had remained silent up until this point, now spoke gravely.

"Claire, it is true. He's not lying."

"Come for a walk with me, Quil said abruptly. Claire stood up silently and walked to the kitchen with him. He opened the door for her and followed her out. As soon as they got off the front porch, Claire started to shiver in her short-sleeved tee shirt. "Just a sec," Quil said as he turned and jogged back inside. He returned seconds later holding a black jacket. "Here," he said, wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Thanks," Claire said gratefully as she shoved her arms through the sleeves.

"So, for the sake of the argument, will you please just try to believe for a minute that I _am_ a werewolf?"

"If I have to."

"Good. So I hope I'm not being too…forward with this, but, um, do you like me?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"No, I mean, do you _like_ like me?"

Claire realized there was no point in lying. "Yes."

"How much do you like me?"

"Sort of… a lot. I started to like you about five years ago, but now I think it might be something… more than that."

Quil beamed at her in the darkness, and his black eyes sparkled. "I like you, too, Claire, I like you very much, and I have for a long time. Sixteen years, to be exact.

"Sixteen? But that would mean I was only two."

"Yeah, I know. See sometimes this weird thing happens to us werewolves. It's called imprinting. It's sort of like love at first sight, but about ten million times stronger. Supposedly every werewolf has an imprint, but he has to see her for anything to happen. And, Claire, you're my imprint." He looked up from the ground into her eyes, awaiting her reaction.

Claire let out a long sigh. " Wow," she finally said. "So you loved me when I was two? That's kind of weird."

"Well, it wasn't like romantic love then. Then, I loved you the way a brother would love a sister. And then, about the time you turned fifteen, it started to change to more of a romantic way."

"Oh." There was a brief silence. "So what do we do now?"

"Now, we walk, and you decide."

"What am I deciding, exactly?"

"If you want to…" he searched for the right words, "for lack of a better way to say it, be with me."

"Why wouldn't I want to.

"Well, if you couldn't guess, there are dangers. Even with our imprints, bad things can happen."

"Like what?"

"You know Sam and Emily are imprints—"

"No, I don't."

"Well, you do now, And you know those scars Emily has?"

"Yeah, from when she got mauled by a bear."

"That wasn't a bear. Sam lost control for just one second, and she was just _there._ So there are risks. Big risks. So just consider it, and think it over, and then tell me. If you don't want to, that's ok. I won't force myself on you if you don't want me."

They walked in silence for barely ten seconds.

"Quil Ateara," Claire said dramatically, I have made my decision."

"And?"

"Yes," she said before wrapping her arms around his neck and reaching up to press her lips against his hot, surprisingly soft mouth.

At first, Quil was too shocked to do anything, but then he came to his senses and kissed her back. Their lips moved perfectly in synch with one another's; to Claire, it felt as if they were puzzle pieces, made to fit together perfectly.

Quil's arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer to him. He moaned from deep inside his chest as he backed up, leaning against a tree, then lifted Claire off her feet; she eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist and brought her hands to his face, memorizing the feel of it.

They stayed in that position for several minutes—or hours—or possibly days until they broke apart, both gasping for air. Claire disentangled her legs, and set herself gently on the ground. She tried to take a couple of steps back, but Quil's steel arms held her in place against his chest. They stayed there for a while, content just to be in each other's arms, while their breathing gradually slowed back to normal.

Quil reluctantly broke the comfortable silence. "We should go back."

"I disagree."

"And why would that be?"

"I am perfectly happy right where I am, thank you very much."

"You're also dead on your feet."

Claire tried to think of a counterargument, but she really _was_ tired. "Ok, but tomorrow I have a _lot_ of questions for you."

"I expected no less. Does this mean you've accepted the fact that I am a werewolf?"

"Yes, for now."

Quil smiled. They approached the house, and he had to duck under the doorframe as he headed into the kitchen, leading Claire by one hand. "Hey, Sam," he greeted him cheerily, as they walked past him watching TV, waiting for their return. Claire assumed that Aunt Emily had gone back to bed.

They walked slowly down the hallway, still hand in hand. Quil stopped outside of Claire's bedroom door. "Goodnight, Claire," he said softly, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Night, Quil," she said before closing her door on his still-smiling face.

**A/N: **Hope you liked it; remember, kids, reviews help me write faster!


	4. Chapter Three: Seeing is Believing

**A/N: **I AM SORRY. You all have every right to hate me for making you wait so long for this chapter. I promise-omise that it will never happen again. My only excuse for that is life. I have one of those, believe it or not. I went on a mission trip a few weeks ago and I totally forgot about this story when I came back. Thank Coldplay, my second favorite band, for giving me some new writing music. I'm listening to _Death and All His Friends_ as we speak. Or, as I type. I already have part of the next chapter written. And I know some of you might be asking why it sent out a false alarm for the alerts. I typed up part of this chapter a few weeks ago, and saved it, and then last weekend I typed up the rest after I wrote it and saved it, but it didn't save right, so I accidentally uploaded that tiny little part, and then I had to delete it, because it was the wrong one. But this is the right one. I promise. Also, I've had a few people asking me if this will have any lemon. The answer is no. I don't read it; I don't write it. I am a Christian and proud of it, and plus, I really don't think Mrs. Meyer would appreciate any of us using her characters in that way.

And, lastly, I really want to thank everyone who has added this story to their favorite story list (15), story alert list (43), and whoever added it to the 4 C2's that it's in. But a GIGANTIC thank-you goes to everyone who has reviewed. Much like a new Coldplay album, reviews give my writing momentum. I love you all.

Enough of this ridiculously long author's note! On with the story!

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Chapter Three

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Claire woke up feeling incredibly good. For one, she could still smell Quil's amazing scent, a woodsy, musky one, on her from the night before. She sighed in content, thinking about last night, replaying every tiny detail in her mind. She looked at the clock. It was 11:02. She sat up, stretched, and started to walk to the bathroom to take a shower. When she got out, she dressed simply; her mind was light years away.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw Quil sitting at the table, eating, of course; a bowl of Rice Krispies was snapping, crackling, and popping on the table in front of him. He must have been waiting for Claire, because he hopped up as soon as she entered the room. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he said teasingly, giving her a bone crushing hug.

"Morning," Claire replied as soon as she could breathe again. "What are we going to do today?"

"Whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, huh?" She raised one eyebrow.

"Yep, anything you want. Your wish is my command," he said as they walked into the living room.

Claire had to reach as far as she could on her tiptoes to just be barely tall enough for her lips to reach his. He sensed this and lifted her up, then set her down on the back of the couch.

"What about your questions?" Quil murmured in the few seconds that his lips were unoccupied.

"They can wait."

"That works for me," Quil chuckled.

Claire leaned into him, deepening their kiss. Quil's tongue raked along her lower lip, asking for entrance, but Claire shook her head and pulled away. "What's wrong?" Quil asked.

"I don't know… this just sort of feels… wrong."

Quil gave her a look that questioned her sanity.

"It's not to say that I don't _want_ it, but just maybe not right now. I mean, we haven't even been dating for twelve hours!"

"Ok, if that's what you want," Quil said with a dejected face.

"I don't mean that we can't do _anything_. Just put some limits on it."

"Ok, limits. I can do limits," Quil said with a slight smile. What are said limits?"

Claire figured the easiest way would be to start at the top. "No sex, obviously."

"Obviously."

"No extreme making out."

"Extreme making out?"

"You know what I mean. We can't be horizontal."

"How about diagonal?" Quil asked with a coy smile.

Claire considered this. "Forty-five degree limit."

"Thirty."

"Forty."

"Alright. Is that all?"

"Nope. There will be no tongue."

"Claaaiirrre…"

"You heard me. No tongue, and I mean it."

"Aww, come on. Just a little?"

"No."

"Pleeeeease?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because I said so." Claire's face paled at the realization of what she just said. "Please tell me I did not just say that."

"Say what?"

"Because I said so!"

"Umm…you didn't just say that?"

"I sound like a _mom!"_

"No you don't."

"Yes I do! My mom _always _said that."

"You do not sound like a mom."

"Stop lying."

"Fine. You sound exactly like a mom." Seeing the look on her face, he quickly added, "But you're one _hot_ mama."

Claire started to laugh; Quil took advantage of this by pressing her still open mouth to his.

He used tongue. A _lot_ of tongue.

Claire didn't protest, instead, she entwined her fingers in his soft hair, pulling herself closer to him. One of his huge, hot hands found the nape of her neck; the other stayed on the small of her back. They stayed like that for quite a while, only breaking apart when Sam entered the room and pointedly cleared his throat. Claire flushed and Quil grinned impishly; Sam just rolled his eyes and continued into the kitchen.

"See? That wasn't _so_ bad, now was it?"

Claire sighed heavily and let herself fall back onto the couch upside-down. Quil did the same beside her.

She peeked out the side of her eye at him, and couldn't help but answer his ear-to-ear grin with a slight laugh.

"_Fine,_" she said exasperatedly. "Tongue is allowed." Seeing Quil's ridiculously ecstatic face, she added, "But only a little." His smile became amused.

"Come on. Let's get these questions over with," Quil said, bouncing onto his feet and reaching out a hand to Claire, which she readily grabbled.

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The couple walked down First Beach again, only this time they were hand in hand.

"So," Claire began, "for the last time, this isn't all an elaborate hoax, is it?"

"Nope," Quil said, popping the _p_ with his lips.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Ok…well… have you ever really met a vampire?"

"Yeah, there used to be a whole coven of them that lived in Forks. There were seven of them, in all. The leader worked at the Hospital."

"The Hospital? But what about the blood?"

"This coven didn't drink human blood." He saw Claire's confused face, and asked, "Do you want to hear the story? It's pretty long."

"I've got time."

"Okay. See, they had lived here once before, near Hoquaim. The old pack of werewolves, three generations before us, was all for killing them, but since they claimed they didn't drink human blood, a treaty was made. The wolves wouldn't kill the vampires as long as the vampires didn't come onto our land and they didn't kill any humans. They left a few years later, though, because they had to stay inconspicuous. They came back a few decades later, though, and when they did, one of the vampires fell in love with a human girl named Bella. Then another coven of vapires was just passing through, and one of them wanted to kill Bella so the other vampires, the Cullens was their name, had to kill him. Then his mate got all pissed, so she made an army—"

"An army?"

"Yeah, an army of newborn vampires. Apparently they're a lot stronger when they're new. Anyways, she led them down here to try and kill Bella. The Cullens knew and we knew that we'd have a lot better chance of beating them if we worked together, so we joined forces and beat them pretty easily. Only one of us got hurt, and that was Jake."

"Jake got hurt?"

"Yeah, one of the newborns got its arms around him, and it crushed a bunch of his bones. He was alright in a couple of days, though."

"Days?"

"Yeah, we all heal really fast. Here…" he muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his keys. He flicked open the Swiss Army Knife that was hanging from the ring, then winced as he stabbed it into his left arm and drug it back an inch.

"Quil! What the heck did you do that for?! You're gonna need stitches, you big idiot!" Claire grabbed his right hand and led him to the water. She cupped some of it in her hands and then splashed it onto his arm, which was dripping blood onto the sand.

"OW!" Quil howled, in response to the saltwater. "Damn it, Claire! That friggin burns! _Damn!_" He brushed off the water with the back of his right hand.

"Quit whining, it's your own fault," she demanded as she grabbed his left hand and peered at the gash. "What the—holy crap!" she exclaimed, actually seeing the wound knit itself back up.

"I told you, we heal fast," Quil answered nonchalantly.

"You're telling me." Claire found this just a bit too weird, and prompted Quil to get her mind off it. "So then what happened?"

"The vampire that loved Bella, Edward, killed the one who made all the newborns."

"What happened to Bella?"

"She married the vampire," he replied with a trace of bitterness.

"Did she know he was a vampire?"

"Yeah, he turned her into one, too, after they got married."

"Wow."

"Yeah." He hesitated. "I know you probably won't, but just in case, could you not mention any of this around Jake?

"Yeah, but why? Because he got hurt?"

"Well, yes, but not in the way you're thinking. Jake was in love with Bella. I think she was his imprint, but he won't admit it."

"Did she love him back?"

"Of course, but I guess that the leeches have something like imprinting, and that happened between the vampire and Bella. She had the choice between him and Jake, and she chose the bloodsucker."

"That sucks."

"I know."

They walked in silence.

"So, besides imprinting and healing quickly, what are some of the weird things about werewolves?"

"Um…well, it's not like the movies at all. We don't turn into big hairy people. Well, except for Paul, but he's already like that," Quil chuckled. "We actually turn into wolves, but bigger. Like, as big as horses."

"Whoa."

"Yep. And when we're wolves, we can hear each other's thoughts. It's useful when we're on a trail, but otherwise, it's pretty annoying."

"That's really… strange."

"I know."

An arctic breeze blew off the ocean, and Claire shivered despite her personal space heater.

"Do you want to see something really cool?" Quil asked her. Claire nodded. Quil scooped her up in his arms and ran towards the forest. "This way's faster," he explained. He didn't stop running until they were about half a mile into the trees. Claire couldn't see any light except for the filtered green light coming from above her, but Quil seemed to know where he was.

"Now wait here," he said, attempting to be stern, but a smile broke through his mask at the end. He turned and ran farther into the trees until she couldn't see him anymore. While she waited, she wondered. _What could he possibly be doing? When is he coming back? Where is he?_

An enormous chocolate-brown wolf emerged from the maze of trees. The eyes that she recognized instantly were cautious.

Claire wordlessly reached out to touch the surprisingly soft fur on top of his head. He seemed to sigh at her touch.

"Quil?" she addressed him somewhat hesitantly. The fur above his now-questioning eyes went up. "This is really… cool."

Quil barked out what sounded like a laugh and nodded his huge head. He then laid don on the ground, his head on his paws, and Claire sat, leaning against his shoulder. Without thinking, she gently started to pet behind his ears. He sighed again, in content, and made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded almost like purring.

They stayed like that for what could have been hours.

Quil suddenly cocked his head, as if he was listening to something. It jolted Claire out of her slumber; she had dozed off leaning against Quil. She was surprised to see that the light coming from above was not very bright, like it was already twilight. Quil reluctantly got up and walked slowly back into the forest. He returned as Quil the Man, and Claire asked, "Are we leaving?" Quil nodded. "Why?"

"Because Sam said I need to take you home." Claire gave him a confused look. "Remember the mind-reading thing?" Claire nodded. "Sam told Embry to tell me to take you home."

"Why didn't Sam just tell you himself?"

"Sam stopped phasing twelve or thirteen years ago, so he could age properly and be with Emily. Jared did the same for Kim a while later. And, in a few years, I'll do the same, for you." He finished somewhat shyly, looking down into Claire's eyes, almost like he was looking for approval. Claire reached up to place a sweet kiss on his lips.

"I love you, Quil."

"I love you more."

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**A/N:** I know, I know. Totally not worth the wait. Sorry. I will have the next chapter up soon, though. But, for now, just click on that strangely colored purplish button down there and review!

Emily


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